


(Don't) Kill the Messenger

by captainandersmith



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Fake AH Crew, Gen, teen for swearing and some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainandersmith/pseuds/captainandersmith
Summary: Some unexpected visitors drop by while Matt is alone in the apartment and Jeremy returns in the middle of them leaving their 'message' to him. Matt has to learn that recovery is a bit more complicated than the healing of physical wounds.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some angsty Matt Bragg for you with a side of concerned friend Jeremy
> 
> This is intended as a prequel for 'How does your world spin?' but can be read separately as well as before or after it!  
> (I do recommend you read hdyws after this though as it completes a nice bit of character building and is a really satisfying conclusion in my opinion)

It certainly wasn’t the first time that Matt had fallen asleep at his desk, but it would probably be the last.

 

Quite often he would try to get a bit of work done while he was waiting for Jeremy to get back from whatever job he was doing. Sometimes he’d just be playing video games. Most of the time he fell asleep before Jeremy returned.

 

Each time Jeremy would shake him awake, brief him about how things had gone, and laugh at him for being an idiot.

 

But it wasn’t Jeremy that woke him tonight.

 

A gentle hand on his shoulder was replaced by a rough grip on his hair. Laughs by threats, conversation by kicks and punches, and Jeremy by two masked men.

 

He didn’t even have the chance to fight back as he was pulled to the ground by his hair, struggling only seemed to earn him more blows. By the time he fully registered what was happening, his hands and feet were tied together and he was knelt before one of the two men he’d noticed earlier and a third man dressed in a suit.

 

That was all he was able to observe since his glasses had flown off during the scuffle and he wasn’t exactly in a position to retrieve them. The other man still had a hold of his hair and an ache began to build where his spine met his neck.

 

“It is _so_ nice to finally meet you my friend” the suited man said, his voice dripping like honey. His slow and careful speech betrayed that his American accent was borrowed but gave an air of sinister confidence.

 

“Oh but where are my manners?”

 

The man gave a small hand gesture, the grip in his hair released and Matt’s world was thrown into focus as his glasses were put back on his face.

 

He instantly recognised the gaunt man stood before him. He had dyed his hair an unnatural shade of blonde since the time of the few photographs Matt had been able to find, but his high forehead and bulging eyes were unmistakeable.

 

“Vasquez” Matt rasped, the words had barely left his mouth and he was suddenly lying sideways on the carpet, all air knocked from his lungs.

 

“Don’t speak” growled the grunt who had obviously dealt the blow. His words were heavily accented but too few to ascertain their origin.

 

“Now, now. I am sure the boy meant to say “It is lovely to see you Mr. Vasquez”” he grinned toothily, “but for the proper greeting I must know your name also, yes?”

Matt’s heart was ready to burst out of his chest and if his hands weren’t bound they would probably be shaking, but he steeled his gaze and glared at Vasquez.

 

Vasquez rolled his eyes in an exaggerated show of impatience, “let me see him better gentlemen”

 

Apparently this involved suspending his tied hands from a ceiling beam so that he was forced to stand upright. From this position he felt the full intimidating force of Vasquez, the man was slim but that only made his incredible height even more unsettling.

 

He reached out with one hand and seized Matt’s jaw with his long, talon-like fingers “I will ask only once more. What is your name boy?”

 

Matt weighed up the options but he had very little choice, “Matt Bragg”

 

Slowly releasing his face, Vasquez tilted his head and gave a pleased hum.

 

“Your friend has been giving us much trouble Mr. Matthew, did you know that?”

 

Matt stayed silent but the question was clearly rhetorical as Vasquez decided to continue.

 

“We have been losing money and clients thanks to him...” ( _thanks to us_ Matt thought),” ...and now my patience is gone. You will tell us the name of your friend”

 

His blood ran cold. Somehow the thought of them knowing Jeremy’s name was far more worrying than them knowing his own. It was true that they had been interfering in Vasquez’s business. It was easy to pinch what was already there and Matt and Jeremy had actually been enjoying making a nuisance of themselves on another gang’s turf.

 

They’d clearly underestimated Vasquez.

 

His hesitation was taken as defiance and he was struck again. He lost count of the number of hits before he heard the voice of Vasquez over his own moans. His knees buckled and the rope tightened painfully around his wrists. Stars burst behind his swelling eye and nausea stemmed from his bruised abdomen.

 

“It is no matter. We did not come for his name. We are bringing a message.” Vasquez hissed, bringing his face so close that his spit sprayed Matt’s forehead.

 

At that moment, a fourth figure called frantically from the door of the apartment.

 

“He’s on his way up boss, we leave from the roof now!”

 

Vasquez’s black, polished shoes disappeared from Matt’s sight and click- clacked towards the door, another pair of footsteps following him, “Take care of him Charlie” he said dismissively, a smile apparent in his tone.

 

“Sir?” the man who was almost certainly not called Charlie replied.

 

“A knife should do the trick” Matt’s head snapped up at this, just in time to see Vasquez wink at him “Goodbye Mr. Matthew”

 

Matt was now drenched in cold panic. He had been in dangerous situations before but this one felt scarily like certain death.

 

‘Charlie’ had finished rummaging through his bag on the floor and pulled out a knife. As it glinted under the light, Matt felt a pinch at his heart.

 

This was it.

 

It was over.

 

He would never see Jeremy again.

 

 _Oh God, Jeremy_.

 

“Oh fuck” he moaned at the first press of cold steel against his neck. ‘Charlie’ had hold of his hair again and was forcing Matt to stare right into his fucking, grinning face as he held his life on the blade’s edge.

 

His heart jumped at the sight of movement in the doorway but unfortunately Charlie had seen it too.

 

He’s not sure if he called Jeremy’s name aloud as the knife cut into his neck.

 

\----------

 

It’s night when he wakes up. He’s not sure how long he’s been out but from the bags under Jeremy’s eyes and the way he clutches Matt impossibly tight as he sobs, Matt guesses that he’s been unconscious for quite a while.

 

Severe blood loss will do that to you he supposes.

 

Matt does not cry.

 

“You were dead” Jeremy almost wails, his head pressed into Matt’s chest, “You were dead and I watched it happen”

 

“I know” Matt says.

 

 _That’s what they wanted,_ he thinks.

 

\----------

 

Jeremy begs Matt to talk about how he’s feeling, but Matt doesn’t feel the need to.

 

He’s most likely in shock, the doctors say. The wounds of the mind can take the longest to heal.

 

Matt is pretty sure the doctors are wrong. He’s thinking with perfect clarity thank you very much. He doesn’t argue with them though, they can think what they like.

 

He just needs to get out of this damn hospital.

 

He’s tired of examining the bruises along with the doctors. Finger marks and fists and boot prints interrupt his skin all over. It’s a pattern of vulnerability, a searing brand of weakness.

 

Each flinch at the touch of a hand. _Weakness_.

 

\---------

 

Turns out, being at the apartment is not much better.

 

The first time they walk through the door, Jeremy looks at Matt as if he might shatter into a thousand pieces at any moment. As if the very sight of their own damn living room will cause him to burst into tears.

 

It’s not Jeremy’s fault that he feels sick with anger.

 

They’re far quieter than they ever were; their only conversations now seem to be about dinner and doctor’s appointments. When Jeremy tries to bring up the subject of the attack Matt just stops him by claiming he’s fine.

 

Which he is.

 

After the eleventh time of Jeremy insisting he does the shopping, Matt questions him.

 

“Doctor says I’m fine to be lifting stuff, why don’t I go?”

 

Jeremy’s look is pleading, “Matt... _they_ know what you look like. What if they... I can’t...”

 

“Fine” Matt says, his teeth gritted. He sits back down on the sofa and pretends to be engrossed with Skyrim when Jeremy calls to get his attention.

 

He waits until he’s given up and walked away before throwing the controller down next to him.

 

There’s been no sign of Vasquez or his cronies since he left the hospital. So why does he feel like they’re standing over his damn shoulder everywhere he goes?

 

\----------

 

They don’t talk about the nightmares either.

 

Matt wakes up with memories he’s not sure he owns. He wakes up gasping, aching for air as if his windpipe has actually been severed.

 

He watches blood pour over his hands. Over and over.

 

He watches Jeremy scream. Watches him shoot Charlie. Watches him hold his dead friend in his arms.

 

When the screams wake Jeremy he comes to Matt’s bedside. It’s the only time Matt allows Jeremy to comfort him.

 

\----------

 

Matt starts spending a lot more time outside the apartment. He just goes out the door and keeps walking until he gets tired and goes back. He knows his thoughts about never going back are just that, empty thoughts. After all, isn’t he tied to Jeremy? The button to push when you want a reaction?

 

Whenever he returns, he’s invariably met with an extremely distressed Jeremy who yells at Matt for his lack of self-preservation, who then yells back at Jeremy for being so stifling.

 

They argue until their throats are sore, until they run out of words, until one slams a door in the other’s face.

 

The next morning Jeremy brings Matt coffee or some form of sweet treat as an apology. But there’s always a trace of a pitying glance that goes with it and so the cycle begins again.

 

\----------

 

Except for one evening.

 

One evening, Matt comes through the front door and Jeremy just greets him. Matt is thrown by the simplicity but decides not to question it.

 

Later over dinner when Jeremy cleared his throat, Matt almost anticipated the question, “So what do we do now?”

 

But Jeremy has actually said more than that.

 

In the following silence Matt hears:

_We should leave_

_We should quit with the crime_

_It’s not safe for you_

_They might come back for you_

And a million other possibilities spinning round Jeremy’s head so fast that Matt can almost hear the whirring.

 

“I’m better now. We go on as usual” it comes out too chipper and Matt has to keep from wincing at his own words.

 

“You know we can’t do that Matt. They warned us not to-”

 

“NO!” Matt was surprised by his own force. He was on his feet now, the dishes still shuddering on the table where his fists had slammed down.

 

“No” he repeated, his voice much quieter this time, “That’s just it Jeremy. _Vasquez_ warned _you_ ”

 

Jeremy made frantic shapes with his mouth but he seemed to be at a loss for something to say.

 

“That’s what this is” Matt brought one of his hands up to cover the scar on his neck, “ _a warning_ ”

 

“That’s all it is”

 

His other hand unclenched on the table and began to shake violently.

 

He didn’t realise he was crying until he was on the floor, collapsed against his friend, shuddering breaths tearing through his body.

 

Jeremy was also crying while muttering a constant litany of reassurances that seemed to be as much for himself as for Matt.

 

As they calmed down, Matt pulled back and took a deep breath, “I almost died because Vasquez wanted to send a message to you”

 

Jeremy knew Matt wasn’t blaming him by saying this. He was voicing what he should have said all those weeks ago back at the hospital.

 

His expression darkened as he thought about the implications of Matt’s statement.

 

“Matt” he said, clasping his hands in his to get his attention, “we’re gonna get that son of a bitch, okay?”

 

Eyes still wet with tears and huddled on the kitchen floor, Matt felt stronger than he had felt in weeks.

 

“Y-yeah. Yeah we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is captainandersmith, feel free to send me questions etc.


End file.
